


Addendum.

by allrounderinsane



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Chris Gayle Incident 2016, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 07:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15092168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allrounderinsane/pseuds/allrounderinsane
Summary: Ricky does have something to do.Mic on, mic off. From shiny, TV faces, to real people, with true vulnerabilities.Ricky walks slowly across the tender turf. Bellerive Oval feels like an extension of his own body. Therefore, when Ricky glances towards the sight of the interview, although that term would provide what had occurred with too much dignity, he shudders. That path of concrete feels like an ugly scar, and it pains him.Ricky steps out of the light and into the darkness.Tasmania's favourite son, turned commentator, contemplates culpability and making amends, post 'Don't Blush Baby', 4 January 2016.





	Addendum.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction, and one which makes a significant change from reality - Ricky Ponting was not working on the match in question. It goes without saying that it’s entirely possible that, if he was, this fic which assumes a certain perspective of his wouldn’t exist.
> 
> Rest of the notes (and links) at the conclusion.

Helmet on, helmet off. That was how Ricky had compartmentalised a seventeen-year Test career, managing the expectations of over twenty million people as well as being able to live with himself.

 

Now that he’s moved into television, the item changed, but not the logic. Mic on, mic off. In fact, the first time they’d met, in the bright studios of Network Ten in Sydney shortly before their appointments covering the Big Bash League were announced in 2013, Ricky had shared that philosophy with Mel. That day, they had both looked at each other with wide-eyed adoration, given that they both marvelled at all they each had achieved in their respective fields, which were now intertwining. Since that day, though, Ricky and Mel’s respect for each other had only deepened, as they worked together.

 

As soon as the production assistant removes his microphone, Ricky halts, displaying a brief and professional smile.

‘Thank you,’ he makes sure to mention, wanting this young woman to know that she’s appreciated for her integral role in putting the cricket to air.

She pauses, and Ricky feels ashamed that he doesn’t even know her name. So much for knowing everyone in Tasmania, as Howie had once alleged.

 

Feeling a little unsure, Ricky glances away.

‘You’re welcome,’ the production assistant eventually replies.

Ricky looks around, realising that the others have already left, either for the post-match debrief or the hotel.

‘See you next match,’ he farewells, then walks away.

 

Ricky does have something to do.

 

Mic on, mic off. From shiny, TV faces, to real people, with true vulnerabilities.

 

Ricky walks slowly across the tender turf. Bellerive Oval feels like an extension of his own body. Therefore, when Ricky glances towards the sight of the interview, although that term would provide what had occurred with too much dignity, he shudders. That path of concrete feels like an ugly scar, and it pains him.

 

Ricky steps out of the light and into the darkness. His eyes adjust to the shadow soon enough.

 

Mel is standing there. Her presence surprises him. Ricky halts about a metre away from Mel, so that he doesn’t startle her. She glances up soon enough.

‘Hi,’ Ricky greets Mel.

He breathes out with a sigh which she counters with an exhausted smile.

 

Ricky steps forward.

‘I’m sorry, Mel,’ he apologises wholeheartedly.

She shakes her head.

‘Not your fault,’ Mel insists.

There’s an uncharacteristic hint of bitterness in her voice.

Mel finally glances up, to meet Ricky’s eye.

‘Thanks, Rick,’ she testifies. ‘I feel like you get it.’

‘I don’t,’ Ricky counters. ‘I don’t know what it’s like to have to work twice as hard to only be considered half as good.’

‘You’ve always been worked twice as hard and been twice as good,’ Mel observes.

A touch of modest pink creeps into Ricky’s cheeks.

‘Thanks,’ he responds.

Mel grins for a moment.

 

Ricky doesn’t know what to say.

‘You shouldn’t have to put up with that,’ he insists, ‘simply because we don’t, as blokes.’

Ricky turns to the side, so that half his face is exposed to the light.

 

‘I know, right?’ Mel quips, then laughs, darkly.

Ricky sighs.

‘I guess I’m just really sorry,’ he apologises again. ‘And, please, you shouldn’t have to do this, but, please, tell us whenever we’re wrong. We always ought to back you.’

‘Thanks, Rick,’ Mel replies.

 

She sighs heavily and stands up from the wall she was leaning against.

‘Come on,’ Mel urges. ‘It’s late. Let’s head back.’

Ricky nods. Side by side, they wander out of the ground, to where their taxi will meet them to take them back to the hotel. Before they step inside, the floodlights are switched off.

‘It’s amazing how dark it is,’ Mel observes.

‘Yeah,’ Ricky agrees. ‘It makes a difference.’

 

‘You know,’ Mel admits, ‘I always knew that you got it. I mean, not just because you’re married to a formidable woman, so it would sort of be a pre-requisite.’

‘I try,’ Ricky divulges, ‘and you’re right about Rianna, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Mel responds.

She clears her throat, regathering her train of thought.

‘Bravo called me beautiful or something, and I remember you recognising that as uncomfortable,’ Mel recalls. ‘That helped.’

Ricky purses his lips a little, then the memory floods back.

‘I’d take credit,’ he responds, ‘but I didn’t even realise.’

Ricky glances over his shoulder as the taxi arrives.

‘You, mate, are at the top of your game,’ he insists. ‘Anyone who acts otherwise has no idea what they’re talking about.’

‘Thanks, Rick,’ Mel replies, then sighs. ‘If only everyone was half as respectful as you.’

Ricky smiles as they shuffled into the taxi.

‘If only every journalist was half as smart as you,’ he counters, not knowing what to say.

 

Mel smiles and thanks him, before she spends the journey back pouring over her notes for the next match. Ricky wants to praise her again, but he knows that all which has needed to be said, has been said.

 

In one of the following matches, Ricky proclaims that Gayle got what he deserved. To the cricketing public, it may have sounded like he was referring to his dismissal, but Ricky, and Mel, know what he means.

 

Nobody crosses the best in the business simply because she’s a woman.

**Author's Note:**

> The Bravo incident referenced in the story can be seen here, as can Ricky and Mel’s reactions to it:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnRmId1g2mY
> 
> Beyond what’s in the story, I’m not making too much of a comment on it - in my opinion, it’s more innocuous than what happened with Gayle. The footage was broadcast as part of this excellent 7:30 program (which also examines how circumstances could be different were the exchange gender-flipped): http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/cricketer-chris-gayle-receives-public-lesson-in/7069592. Not sure if the video works overseas, but there's a transcript. That event is what sparked this story. It is true that Ricky said what he said about Gayle in a future match, but in context, it was most likely referencing not taking a single earlier in the over - the double-meaning has been read into it for the sake of the story.
> 
> I also know that it's written from a male perspective, but that's kind of the point - to discuss men's responses to the treatment of women and where to go from here.
> 
> You might recognise this scene from 'Shouting at the Summer Sky' - it was adapted for that fic, but I preferred the original. The cricketing references which I felt added to the work were lost in the AU context.
> 
> I certainly don’t love everything about this fic, and for a long time, this was never meant to see the light of day, but after sharing it with one thoughtful person (you know who you are and I thank you immensely), I thought that I would set it free.


End file.
